Frostborn: The Undying Wizard (28 page)

Coriolus said nothing, did not even look up from his scroll.

But she saw that damned smirk on his face.

“You killed him!” roared Morigna, jerking against the ropes. “My mother! My father! You killed everyone I ever loved. Why?”

“Don’t be melodramatic,” said Coriolus. “It was necessary to kill Nathan. If he had gotten you with child, that would have made possessing you considerably more complicated. It is much easier to possess a woman who has never carried a child.” He shook his head. “I learned that the hard way.” 

“You killed them,” snarled Morigna. Blood dripped down her arms from the rope burns, but she was past caring. “You killed them, you…”

“That,” said Coriolus, “is quite enough.” He scowled. “You are injuring yourself. Or, more precisely, you are injuring the body that will soon be mine.” 

He walked around the table and gestured, ruby light flashing from his hand. Invisible force wrapped around Morigna, locking her in place. Coriolus cast another spell, and this time white light flared around his fingers. He healed the cuts and bruises upon her arms and wrists, grimacing as he did. 

“There,” said Coriolus. “I wish no more wear and tear upon you than necessary.” 

“How generous,” spat Morigna. 

“One must look after oneself,” said Coriolus. He returned to his table, opened one of the pots, and dipped a brush into it. 

Then he moved closer and began painting sigils upon the skin of her left leg. She tried to jerk away, but the ropes held her fast. Inch by inch he worked, painting arcane sigils upon her shin and calf, and then working his way along her thigh.

“What are you doing?” said Morigna. 

“Preparing the spell,” said Coriolus, still painting. “Transferring my spirit into your flesh is hardly as simple as pouring wine from one cup into another. A tremendous amount of magical force is required. The sigils I am painting upon you,” he moved from her left leg and onto her belly, his voice slipping into its familiar lecturing tone, “will serve to augment and focus the powers I shall summon.” He waved his free hand at the standing stones around them. “Hence the necessity of performing the spell here, on a night when the thirteen moons are in the proper configuration. The dark elves built these stone circles to empower their spells. Now they shall empower mine.” 

“How very brilliant,” sneered Morigna.

Yet it was brilliant, even if he had turned his intellect to a twisted end. She had considered herself strong in magic, yet she could only follow about half of the glyphs he painted onto her skin, and she could barely grasp the entirety of the spell. And he had orchestrated her entire life to his end, his persona of the “Old Man” never wavering for even an instant. 

At least she knew the truth now. If Ridmark had not come, if Shadowbearer had not commanded Coriolus to claim the empty soulstone, then Coriolus would simply have taken Morigna whenever he felt ready. She could well have perished without ever knowing the truth.

The truth that blazed inside her like an inferno.

He had killed her parents. He had killed the only man she had loved. She wanted to kill him more than she had ever wanted anything.

But she could do nothing more than lie motionless and watch as he prepared her like a butcher leading a sheep to the slaughterhouse.

In the end, she simply had not been strong enough. 

“Not to worry,” said Coriolus, straightening up and rubbing his back with a grunt, “perhaps after I claim your flesh, your spirit will ascend to join the Dominus Christus in paradise, and your wretched parents and your imbecilic lover will await to welcome you” He leaned closer and grinned. “But we know better, don’t we?”

Morigna spat in his face.

Coriolus laughed and turned away. 

“Coriolus.”

Morigna turned her head and saw Jonas Vorinus climb to the top of the mound, still clad in his chain mail and cloak. 

“The guards are around the hill,” said Jonas, “though I don’t see why you are so cautious. The Gray Knight and his followers are imprisoned, and the fools of the town have no idea of what is about to happen.” 

“Nevertheless,” said Coriolus, “I have not lived for over two centuries by taking foolish risks.”

“Perhaps,” said Jonas, and his eyes fell over Morigna. 

A leering grin spread over his face.

She forced herself to meet his eyes without blinking, without flinching. Even like this, she refused to show weakness in front of a man like Jonas Vorinus.

“I cannot believe,” said Jonas, “that my brother fell in love with a woman like you. You’re too stringy. No curves to you at all. But Nathan never had any taste.” He laughed. “In the end, the dread witch of the hills is nothing more than a frightened girl.”

“If I’m too stringy,” said Morigna, “then why are you still staring?”

A hint of color went into Jonas’s face, and he scowled and looked away.

“Coriolus killed Nathan,” said Morigna. “Not me. He set the urvaalg upon Nathan. If you’re so keen to avenge his death, then take that sword and ram it between the Old Man’s ribs.”

“His death was your fault,” said Jonas. “You were Coriolus’s property, and you should have stayed away from Nathan.”

Morigna started to spit an answer back at him, but Jonas turned to the Old Man.

“You should contact the Master,” said Jonas. 

“I shall notify Shadowbearer in my own good time,” said Coriolus. “Best not to communicate until my victory is certain.”

“Your victory is certain,” said Jonas. “The Gray Knight and the Magistria are imprisoned and cannot escape. The witch of the hills,” he smirked at her, “cannot escape.” He pointed at the leather pouch hanging from the Old Man’s belt. “And if you keep that soulstone for too long without telling the Master, he might think you were planning to keep it for yourself. I imagine his displeasure would be considerable.” 

“You make a good point,” said Coriolus. “Very well.”

He turned away, his back toward Morigna, and cast a spell. Darkness shivered and danced around him, and his shadow, longer and blacker than such dim light could cast, billowed out behind him.

And the shadow was pointing toward the light, not away from it.

“Master,” said Coriolus, speaking to his shadow. “I have news.”

The shadow rotated around him, slowly. Coriolus kept his face calm, but there was a hint of tension near his eyes. 

He feared the thing that now circled him.

The shadow began to speak.

“Do you, now?” it said. Jonas dropped to his knees at once. The voice was deep and resonant and musical, far deeper than any human voice, deeper than even the rasping voices of the dvargir. Yet for all its beauty, there was a strange, eerie resonance to the voice.

As if two voices were speaking through the same mouth at once. 

“I am pleased to report,” said Coriolus, his eyes moving to follow his shadow, “that I have succeeded in the task you have given me, Master. I have obtained the empty soulstone.”

“Indeed?” said the strange voice. It made Morigna’s skin crawl, and something about it frightened her more than everything that had happened to her.

The voice of Shadowbearer.

No wonder Calliande feared him so much. 

“I have it with me now,” said Coriolus, touching his belt. 

“Well done,” said Shadowbearer. “Competence, alas, seems to be a rare quality in the modern age. And what of the Gray Knight and the Magistria? You have slain them as I bid?”

“Even better, Master,” said Coriolus. “I hold them imprisoned.”

A cold note entered the strange voice. “I told you to kill them.”

“They are thoroughly bound,” said Coriolus. He remained calm, but a line of sweat trickled down his temple and into his beard. “I sealed them within a trap constructed of dvargir wards and dark magic within the entry hall of Thainkul Dural. Nothing can shatter the trap from within, and only the most powerful magic can break it from without. They will sleep until you come to wake them. I would not presume to take the pleasure of killing them.” 

For a moment the shadow said nothing, and Morigna felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps Coriolus had overstepped himself, and Shadowbearer would kill both him and Jonas. Maybe she could yet escape…

“Well,” said Shadowbearer at last. “Ambition and competence rarely go hand in hand. Isn’t that right, Jonas Vorinus?”

“Master,” said Jonas. Unlike Coriolus, he simply looked terrified. “I will do as you bid.”

“But you have done well, Coriolus,” said Shadowbearer. “The Gray Knight and the Magistria are far more dangerous than you know.”

“Forgive me, Master,” said Coriolus, “but like you, I knew Calliande in the days before the defeat of the Frostborn. I knew just how dangerous she was, and I did not take her threat lightly.” 

“It appears not,” said Shadowbearer. “You have pleased me, Coriolus. Soon I shall join you, and you will present the empty soulstone to me. And if you have indeed imprisoned Ridmark Arban and Calliande as you said, I shall reward you most richly.”

“And if I have not,” said Coriolus, “my life is forfeit?”

“I am pleased that we understand each other.”

“He could not have done it without my help, Master!” said Jonas. “I lured Ridmark Arban into his path, I…”

“I am sure you were most effective,” said Shadowbearer, a mocking note in that twofold voice. “Tell me. Of the six brothers of the Red Family who accompanied you to Moraime, how many yet live?”  

A muscle worked in Jonas’s jaw. “One. Maybe. I am…uncertain what became of Rotherius. He might have survived.”

“Indeed?” said Shadowbearer. “I care only for results. But the Red Family might grow a touch irritated with you, Jonas. The Dux paid a great deal of gold to those assassins. I imagine both the Matriarch of the Family and the Dux will be quite annoyed with you. But fear not. I am sure they are most forgiving of weakness.”

Jonas said nothing, the muscle still twitching. 

“I shall do as you say, Master,” said Coriolus.

“Your new host,” said Shadowbearer, and Morigna’s skin crawled. She felt an unseen presence focusing upon her. A malignant will and power, regarding her with eyes wrought from something other than flesh. “I see you have not claimed her yet.”

“No, Master,” said Coriolus. “It seem only proper to inform you of my victory before claiming the spoils.”

“Indeed,” said Shadowbearer. “Let us take a closer look, shall we?”

Coriolus’s shadow rotated and fell over Morigna.

She screamed. She had loathed the touch of Coriolus’s fingers upon her bare skin as he painted the sigils upon her legs and stomach. But the shadow felt worse, far worse, as if some vast creature of nightmare was staring at her through a keyhole, a creature that would snuff her out like a candle if it could just open the door.

Coriolus was strong, but he was nothing next to Shadowbearer’s power. 

Part of her mind marveled at the power, and wondered what she could do if she wielded it herself, and for a moment she heard the shadow whispering in her ears…

“So you are the next vessel?” said Shadowbearer. “It is almost a pity you are about to claim her, Coriolus. If you could but see the shadows her past throw upon her future…ah, indeed.” 

“With all respect, Master,” said Coriolus, “I am afraid I must insist upon claiming her as my vessel.” Jonas gaped at him. “If she has some quality you require, I will of course seek out another individual possessing that quality after I have claimed her.”

“Have no fear, Coriolus,” said the double voice, the strange shadow sliding off Morigna’s skin. She closed her eyes and shuddered in relief, grateful that the terrible thing was no longer touching her. “I have no wish to claim your prize. Clothe yourself in new flesh, and await my coming.”

“It shall be as you say, Master,” said Coriolus.

His shadow rippled and stretched, and then shrank back to normal. 

“I cannot believe that you dared to be so impudent to the Master,” said Jonas, getting to his feet once more.

“That is because you are young and weak,” said Coriolus, raising his white eyebrows. “If you manage to survive long enough, you will come to understand that Shadowbearer cares only for success. Anything that furthers his goal of reshaping the world is worthy. Anything that hinders it…is to be removed.”

Jonas scowled, but nodded.

“Maintain watch,” said Coriolus. “I do not anticipate interference, but the amount of magical power I am about to summon may draw unwelcome attention. The corporeal undead and the wraiths should be more than capable of dealing with any intruders, along with my newest creation.”

“It is a…formidable creature,” said Jonas. “And after? Once you take your new body? What then?”

“We shall await Shadowbearer,” said Coriolus. “The Frostborn are soon returning, and the shape of the world will change. The Enlightened of Incariel shall rise high…along with those who have proven themselves to Shadowbearer. Perhaps even you, Jonas Vorinus, if you learn from your mistakes. Now do as I have commanded.”

Jonas hesitated, nodded, and then departed. 

“How very gracious of you,” said Morigna. “I thought you would kill him.”

Coriolus shrugged. “Even the wisest man was once a young fool. And he may be useful to me in the future. Though if he annoys me too much I will simply kill him.” He picked up his pot and brush. “Meanwhile, I have work before me. Ah, but my knees ache. It will be good to be young again.” 

He began painting a fresh row of sigils upon her stomach and arms. Morigna did not even bother to struggle. She knew it was over. He would expel her spirit from her flesh, and then take her body like a man donning a new suit of clothes. 

What would happen to her then? Perhaps her spirit would dissipate into oblivion. Or perhaps Caius and Calliande were right in their faith, and her spirit would join her parents and Nathan and the Dominus Christus in paradise.

She rather doubted that. And even if it was true, she had hardly led a just life.

Morigna closed her eyes and waited for the end.

Chapter 19 - Riddles

Calliande drifted in her sleep, and her sleep she dreamed. 

And as ever, the dreams frustrated her.